Ephesus, leaving behind
us the more fertile environs of Smyrna, and were entering upon that
wild and tenantless track through the marshes and defiles which lead
to the few huts yet lingering over the broken columns of Diana--the
roofless walls of expelled Christianity, and the still more recent
but complete desolation of abandoned mosques--when the sudden and
rapid illness of my companion obliged us to halt at a Turkish
cemetery, the turbaned tombstones of which were the sole indication
that human life had ever been a sojourner in this wilderness. The
only caravansera we had seen was left some hours behind us, not a
vestige of a town or even cottage was within sight or hope, and this
"city of the dead" appeared to be the sole refuge for my unfortunate
friend, who seemed on the verge of becoming the last of its
inhabitants.

In this situation, I looked round for a place where he might most
conveniently repose:--contrary to the usual aspect of Mahometan
burial-grounds, the cypresses were in this few in number, and these
thinly scattered over its extent: the tombstones were mostly fallen,
and worn with age:--upon one of the most considerable of these, and
beneath one of the most spreading trees, Darvell supported himself,
in a half-reclining posture, with great difficulty. He asked for
water. I had some doubts of our being able to find any, and prepared
to go in search of it with hesitating despondency: but he desired me
to remain; and turning to Suleiman, our janizary, who stood by us
smoking with great tranquillity, he said, "Suleiman, verbana su,"
(_i.e._ bring some water,) and went on describing the spot where it
was to be found with great minuteness, at a small well for camels, a
few hundred yards to the right: the janizary obeyed. I said to
Darvell, "How did you know this?"--He replied, "From our situation;
you must perceive that this place was once inhabited, and could not
have been so without springs: I have also been here before."

"You have been here before!--How came you never to mention this to
me? and what could you be doing in a place where no one would remain
a moment longer than they could help it?"

To this question I received no answer. In the mean time Suleiman
returned with the water, leaving the serrugee and the horses at the
fountain. The quenching of his thirst had the appearance of reviving
him for a moment; and I conceived hopes of his being able to proceed,
or at least to return, and I urged t